


Gems of Versailles

by PrinceOfOneSingleDomain



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon), Versailles no Bara | Rose of Versailles
Genre: Aliens, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Duelling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, French Revolution, Gen, Minor Violence, Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), Royalty, Swordfighting, Swords, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2020-04-24 04:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19165993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceOfOneSingleDomain/pseuds/PrinceOfOneSingleDomain
Summary: Oscar Francois de Jarjayes - master fencer, Brigadier General, one of the closest women to Queen Marie Antoinette. At least until four new guests show up in Versailles and a woman called Rose Quartz takes her place next to Marie. In a fit of anger, two ignored swordfighters challenge each other to a duel, and Versailles is thrown into disarray. Along with their feelings.The Gems in Versailles.





	1. Morning After, Day Before

**Author's Note:**

> As always, any sort of criticism is very appreciated.

A note had been passed through Oscar’s chamber door, written in small, beautiful handwriting that seemed to curl and unfurl around itself. It was pink, and it said

_I am ready to duel come evening, by six o’clock, and will await you in the Orangerie. As mentioned previously, the weapon of choice for the two of us will be the sword, correct? Should you change your opinion on the matter, let me know. We can choose any other weapon at all._

_Sincerely,_

_P._

She read it two more times to make sure the tone was actually snarky, then crumpled it up and threw it into a corner. Six o’clock. So be it. She looked in the mirror. There were bags under her eyes, but they wouldn’t be visible in the dark of an autumn evening. And there was still an entire day ahead of her, another day of being the son her father had always wanted – the Palace Guard didn’t command itself, after all. She took her uniform from the chair she had unceremoniously dumped it on just a couple of hour earlier, closed her sword belt around her hips and took sword and sheath. At least they’d be used today.

It was the second week after she'd asked Marie to assign her to the palace guard, saying it was because she'd failed to capture the Black Knight, although of course it was different, as it were, and it was the first lie she'd ever told the Queen. She felt hot and flushed when she thought about it, and giving it too much thought might make her useless for the day - she had to stop. Whatever power had compelled her to start yelling in the dark pub of the night in the first place had to carry her through the day.

When Oscar walked out of her house, careful not to wake Rosalie, head still groggy and voice slightly hoarse, the duel was all anyone seemed to be talking about. Whenever she wandered past the idly coquetting ladies and dames who would normally shoot her hidden glances and directed giggling, they now seemed honestly concerned for her health. One of them even walked up to her, confessed feelings of deep and sincere affection and then apologised for not having done so sooner. She offered to run away with Oscar, far, somewhere beyond the corners of France, and fell unconscious as soon as Oscar touched her shoulder. Another woman approached them. 

“You should take her up on her offer! Who knows what those people will do to you?”

It seemed truly as if Oscar had sentenced herself to death, and everyone was merely waiting for the long arm of the executioner to come down along with his axe. But she merely touched the hilt of her sword, moved her hair out of her face and said “What hurts the Queen’s honour hurts me, and I shall not let it stand, never.”

The women swooned. “What a knight!”, one of them said, and the other nodded eagerly. “If she were not a woman, truly…” Though she wasn’t even sure why she said it – Oscar’s womanhood didn’t stop her in those late-night fantasies, and neither should it now. But the knight moved oh-so quickly out of sight, no doubt into the guards' barracks.

Oscar leaned against a wall as soon as she couldn’t hear the girls bicker anymore. What had she done? She looked up the brilliant walls of Versailles, the many windows seemingly exploding with the light of the morning, throwing it back at her like stage lights. What had she done? She remembered walking into the pub, staying far too long at the same table as André, trying to drown out some sorrow or other when – they’d walked in.

The image had seared itself into her mind – outside, rain, a large gathering of people standing around one of them and her, and as soon as the words “I’m no worse than your Marie, so what could she ever see in her?”, both their fates had been sealed. There was no way back. The challenge, although Oscar had screamed and thrown down her gloves into the rain, ready to go right then and there, had been a routine. Trained. Her father’s words echoing through her mouth. But it was there.

However, no amount of training or living by the French court could have prepared her for this. The guests were positively alien, whether it was the one who climbed the castle walls to brood on the roof, the one who ate enormous amounts of food and furniture or the one she was to duel, at once the most graceful and the coldest towards the citizens and denizens of Versailles. Oscar would teach her the proper way to talk about Marie Antoinette. Even if it cost her her life. 

She had to find André. And she had to drill the job of the day into the Palace Guards before they figured she’d been too drunk to wake up and wandered off to drink some more on their own.

She left the castle grounds, careful whether she would be spotted by either the Queen or any of her new, strange guests, and entered just as Claude declared her null and void for the day.

“She’s out, c’mon guys, let’s just go ahead and sneak some cognac in. No-one will notice and we won't die of boredom.”

“As I’m sure nobody will notice your absence, Claude.”

Oscar entered the barack’s main room through the door, which was wide open, revealing to anybody who cared to drop in the exact number of guards in the room. Sloppy. She noticed a bottle of beer on the table, and a small cup right next to it – she approached the table, pushing past stuttering guards and a pale Claude, to see that there was wine in it.

“Whose is this?”, she asked. Her voice thundered, and the guards shut up quickly. “I repeat”, she said, “in the name of Queen and Country, whose is this?”

The garrison remained silent. Oscar smirked. She had trained at least a bit of comradeship into them, even if it went against her. But then, without her anticipating it in the least, like a bolt of lightening on a clear summer’s day, anger shot through her bones. She grabbed a musket from the wall and threw it at Claude.

“All outside! We’re doing the marching regiment, and if any of you dare slouch I’ll throw you out of the guard with no pension! Get moving! Get moving, damn it!”

“Shall we start as soon as we are out, Sir?”, Claude asked, already wrapping the musket around his shoulder. He was barely 18, a boy too young to understand what might befall a castle such as Versailles if the tables, or any table at all, turned. Oscar wanted to crush him. She couldn’t let go of the anger, boiling within her, making all her thoughts hot and searing to the touch.

“Wait outside, all of you”, she grit out through her teeth.

“Yes, sir!”, the guards said. They moved past Oscar as if she were a landmine, grabbing their muskets and swords, and soon it became quiet in the barracks, the new sounds coming from just outside, with the guards forming four long lines that would march onto the castle grounds and then disperse into the areas Oscar would assign to them. Was this what her father had always wanted a son to be?

She slumped down on the table. Was she doing the right thing? No doubt, if she were to fall during a duel against someone who had hurt the honour of the Queen before so many people, she would be honoured in turn, a statue built. She would be the one to make the family name shine. Yet why – why didn’t the Queen seem to care? She should’ve been by her room by now – and Oscar had waited that morning, yes she had – yet Marie was nowhere to be found. Was she gone with that large, pink woman again? Rose Quartz, or how she called herself?

Ever since the Gems had arrived at the gates after being begged and invited and courted by every house in Europe worth a darn for years, Marie Antoinette didn’t seem to want to leave their side, and at least one of them seemed happy to oblige. Oscar barely saw the others. Well, at least until yesterday.

Oscar stood up. No use brooding. There were things she had to do, like prepare the guards for the day. Or…

A duel.

She stumbled. A hand caught her, strong and tender. André, eye concerned, the other still bandaged from where the Black Knight cut him, black hair wide and flowing like her blonde. How she wanted to punch his beautiful face as she had done in their childhood, but everything had so much more meaning now. Small remarks turned to insults. Fights to duels. .

“Let me”, she said, “I’ve got things to do.”

“Obviously. You’ve been rather busy.”

“Don’t lecture me, André.”

“You deserve it, Monsieur. »

« Don’t you dare. I’m commander to you, or a friend, and if you can’t handle either right now, you better get away from me.”

"Friend?"

Oscar's breath caught in her throat. Yes. Of course. His arms on her, his face close to hers, her tears streaming down, him repeating again and again that he loved her. The way he had stumbled then, saying that it had been too dark even though it had been perfectly light in the room. She looked at his face, his eye bandaged up again, his other one - was it focused on her?

"André, are you alright?"

"I don't know", he said, "it's just... you - I don't expect you to respond to what I said. You were busy with the Black Knight and... letting him go", he whispered, "but... please. I need to know you still value me. And my opinion. And I think you have to stop this."

"Don't - don't use our friendship as leverage, André. It's unbecoming."

“What is _wrong_ with you? You’re impossible when you’re like this, Oscar. We’ve known each other since we were born. Listen to me, this is - why are you even doing this? This is wrong. They don't care and they won't care about any of this unless it is to make fun of us.”

"Ah, but they accepted! She accepted." Oscar gazed into André's eye, trying to will the concern out of it, but he remained steadfast. He shook his head.

"So what? This is wholly unnecessary. You'll end up hurting yourself, or her, and in the end you'll see it never even..."

" So what? All I want is for someone to realise I’m in the _right_ here. I caught the Black Knight, the most notorious thief this place has _ever_ seen. I was by the Queen’s son’s side when he died, she chose _me_ as personal confidant and this – this _thing_ has the _audacity…”_

"We caught the Black Knight."

"Yes - I'm sorry." Oscar looked up at him again then, and he seemed somehow different. André's expression had softened, and it only made Oscar feel a dark pit growing in her stomach. If the duel went badly, wouldn't everyone around her suffer? She ruffled her hair. This wasn't good. Doubt would lead to her falling. But then again, she hadn't caught the Black Knight on her own. When they had been together on horseback, her taking him to Versailles, they had fallen and she well would have died without Rosalie shooting him. And then - she shuddered at the thought - she wanted to crush his eye while he was lying on the ground, had already raised her hand and the whip, when André caught her. And now, she was pushing him away.

“She’ll crush you”, André said, as if sensing her fear. She had to find a way to make him stop, because if he stopped her, then her life would be over. You don't challenge someone who disrespects the queen and then faulter. They would strip her of her rank. And Marie would never look at her again.

“I won’t be crushed by anyone. I have to defend the Queen’s honour.”

“Are you sure that’s what this is about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think Marie will even attend the duel, with all the revolts happening right now?”

Oscar's stomach flipped.

“I don’t understand. She’ll be there.”

“Oscar…”

"You don't understand, André", Oscar said, grabbing him by the collar, "she has to be there. Make her." She felt her fingers tense around his collar, André's eye focused on hers, his expression stern, without even a hint of understanding. If he said anything more, she'd probably crumble up. 

"I..."

“Brigadier General de Jarjayes”, a voice called from outside, “come outside right this instant.”

“And Rosalie’s here too”, Oscar said. Ever since the servant girl had nursed her back to health she barely left her side. Oscar didn’t mind, but her attention had to be on Marie Antoinette, always.

“Should I tell her you’re busy being making an arse of yourself?”

“Get out of my way, Grandier”, Oscar said, pushing herself past him, “I’ll handle this.”

Rosalie looked worse than she had imagined. A number of the guards looked distinctly uncomfortable at the sight of her handkerchief – she was just about to cry, that was certain, and the Guard Academy didn’t teach men how to handle anything more complicated than a musket, let alone a human being.

“Oscar, is it true?”

“Is what true, Rosalie? I don’t have time for this right now.”

Her eyes were puffy. Her face red. Were people this scared? Maybe she had chosen the wrong opponent. But there was no room left do doubt now. Oscar's expression turned sullen as Rosalie continued.

“What the people are saying!”

“What are the – you know I don’t care for rumours, Rosalie.”

Rosalie stomped her foot. One of the guards took a tentative step back. Good God, had they ever seen a woman other than their mother?

“That you and Pearl of the Crystal Gems are going to fight to the death!”, Rosalie said. The guards whispered to each other.

“Silence!”, Oscar said. They quieted down immediately. Good. She hadn’t lost her authority yet. But a part of her was keenly aware of the fact that all of it, and all of the fragile identity she’d fancied herself as Brigadier General, would faulter at the first sign of weakness. She had to duel. But how to explain to Rosalie?

“Oscar”, she said, “I asked you something!”

“Yes!”, Oscar yelled. “I challenged her! She accepted! Yes!”

Rosalie sighed. Her next look pierced Oscar to the core.

“How dare you. How dare you throw your life away?”

“Sir Oscar is defending the Queen’s honour!”, Claude said. “She’s doing the right thing.”

“I don’t care about the Queen!”, Rosalie said. “I care about you, Oscar, and either way you’re not – ugh!”

The guards had started murmuring. A sentence such as “I don’t care about the Queen” could land anyone in hot waters, and a person of such low standing still had something to fear. If any of the guardsmen were to rat her out, Rosalie might be executed. Oscar had to end this, fast, before Rosalie doomed herself even more.

“Rosalie, please. You know I’m a good fighter. Go home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I promise.”

Rosalie shook her head. She looked at the guards, a stone-faced wall of people staring her down in the gardens. For a moment, the only sound were chirping birds.

“I hope you know what you’re doing”, she said. Then she left, her servant’s clothes dirtied by the still-wet ground and grass. However, just before her steps moved too far, she turned around to face Oscar. “You promised”, she said. A gust of wind lifted Oscar’s hair, and soon after, Rosalie had turned, gone to worry somewhere else. Merde. “Forgive me, Rosalie”, Oscar said quietly, “but I have to.”

Oscar pointed at Versailles.

“March! Go!”

“But you have to walk before us!”, Claude said while the others already started moving.

“I will!”

Oscar put all of her anger, all of her thoughts and fury into her step. The earth seemed to shake around her, and an aura that made the air around her tense grabbed all the guards who had the misfortune of being too close. “Move, or didn’t your mothers raise you right? _Un, deux, trois, quatre!_ ” They moved through the large gardens before the castle, attracting many a glance, though they seemed to be even more focused on Oscar than usually. André leaned against the barracks, and she could tell he was watching her go – surely this would be the last time they saw each other before the duel. And after – who knew.

“Would you like to try?”, he asked. A purple crow took off and flew towards Oscar.

They were strange, strange indeed, but not much weirder than the usual goings-on at court, he thought. It was Versailles, after all.


	2. An Invitation

A leaf drifted past their window, briefly touching the windowpane, and  cast its shadow along the ornate wall, the beautiful wooden chairs and a mahogany table where Garnet sat, idly looking outside. Oscar and her guards, about a hundred of them – the rest must not have yet returned from one errand or another, or were still standing guard, now to be replaced by the others – were slowly leaving the march to take their positions, Oscar barking orders. Her movements were quick and direct, but Garnet felt the presence of something else there, not just decisiveness, not mere nervousness. She put her cup of tea down on the table and turned towards the bed. It was ornate and pink, as if the drapes were in fact clouds carried over from some faraway planet. Perhaps they were – Garnet had seen Marie Antoinette’s child play with a toy passed down for generations. It had been a small gem artefact, a staff wielded by one of the Nephrite’s on Pink’s old ships. They appeared in the weirdest places sometimes, Garnet thought, perhaps someone threw a metal slab away that contained some of Homeworld's biggest secrets. Something moved behind the pink curtain, something Garnet could almost see. Pearl. She threw a shirt out from the bed, her arms tired and slow.

The people of Versailles had brought them dresses and corsets, but the Gems didn't work that way. Garnet had opted for a robe that looked much more like the common folk’s than anything regal, Amethyst had loved the cook’s simple outfit with big buttons in the shirt’s middle so much she decided to fashion her self her own, and Pearl looked like she always did, with a blue shirt on the top, light trousers and black boots adorning her feet, none of them clothes, all of them shapeshifted from the light that made up their bodies. Garnet felt foreign in a place so human, so unlike anything else she’d ever seen, reminding her of Homeworld in parts of its royal rigidity. But having Pearl there felt good.

“So, Pearl.”

“I know what you’re going to say, but you’re not going to change my mind.”

“Ah.”

“Look at your Future Vision, Garnet.”

“Hm.”

Garnet had looked into it. And Garnet had seen things.

“Ugh!” Pearl fell back on the bed. Its relative softness meant nothing to her. “Why must she always do this to me? Can’t we just leave this place already? If we never stayed this long, this never would have happened.”

“You sound like you’re disappointed.”

“I am.”

“Don’t. I saw you writing that letter this morning.”

Pearl sighed. “I really can’t hide from you, can I?”

“She’s good, that woman”, Garnet said. “From what I’ve heard said around here.”

“So what?”, Pearl said. She stood up from the bed and walked over to the window. A purple crow had landed on Oscar’s shoulder. They were talking to each other, Oscar gesticulating wildly in all directions, no doubt referring to the entire world through Versailles. “And now Amethyst’s getting involved! God, can’t I do anything on my own?”

“You would, if you wanted to.”

“What are you saying?”

“You want Rose to see.”

Pearl punched the wall. “So I do. So what? She’s been hanging on that queen’s coattails ever since we got here, and she’s supposed to be with _me_. We _agreed_ after last time, we…”

“That’s how Rose is, Pearl”, Garnet said. She leaned back. “You should’ve gotten used to it by now.”

“Argh, don’t lecture me!”

Pearl slumped down on a chair. She furrowed her brows and massaged her temples. The sunlight hit her gem and a dull afterimage of the sun hit the ceiling. She looked up at it, a sun like so many others she had seen, and also just Earth’s sun, infinitely revolving around the same things for thousands of years. A lot like she was, honestly.

“What’s her name, anyway?”, Pearl asked.

“Oscar”, Garnet said.

“Don’t they call males that here?”

“She was born to the commander of the Royal Guard. He needed an heir to take over.”

“I see. And she just obeyed? How pitiful, Rose fought all those wars for Gems only for humans to turn out just as mindless as… well, Yellow’s and Blue’s.”

“It’s not that simple. It never is, not with humans.”

“You always say just the right thing to get under my skin.”

Garnet smiled. “You won’t kill her, right?”

“No”, Pearl said, “I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

“You want to show Rose you’re better.”

“Wouldn’t I fight her queen then?”

“Pearl”, Garnet said, “you do whatever you feel is right.”

“See”, Pearl said, leaning forward to look past Garnet’s visor into her three eyes, mixed with the reflection of their ornate shared chamber, the bed, the chairs, the painting of an Austrian landscape hanging on the wall, “that’s exactly the wrong thing to say.”

A bird hit their window. Pearl jumped up, screaming.

“What the – Amethyst!”

The purple crow was hovering outside, briefly flapping its wings to stay afloat, snickering and cackling loudly.

“You should’ve seen your face, Pearl, it looked like…”

The crow turned its face into an amalgamation of Pearl and a bird, and screamed out like a chicken realising cosmic horror.

Pearl opened the window.

“Get in here so I can show you what I think of that! Come on!”

“Pffft, why would I, P? You ain’t got nothing new to show me, but I, I keep…”

“Get inside”, Garnet said, “you’re scaring the locals.”

Pearl looked down. A woman had fainted, and two guards had run up to her before she fell. They were now carrying her away, presumably to a pile of more fainted women – Pearl never understood how they wore those corsets. A flash of blonde caught her eye. Oscar. She was sitting on a bench, looking at their window. Pearl couldn’t make out her expression, with autumn leaves drifting everywhere between them, obscuring too much of themselves for understanding, but she still felt like she had to tear her eyes away from the Brigadier General or else she might stare.

She’d been so… that night. Amethyst had dragged her out of the castle into some seedy nighttime location, where Oscar’s blonde hair had been the only light thing in the room next to a few candles. They sat down in the shade, next to Oscar, alone at her table, quietly nursing a beer, and waited for something to happen, Pearl asking to leave every few minutes. Then they’d watched a brawl unfold, which, Pearl admitted, had been amusing, but then the songs in the name of the Queen had started. How great she was. How cute she was, even. One of the patrons, drunker than most, went into glorious detail saying what he’d do to her. And Oscar jumped up. Defended her. Said how virtuous she was, how hard her fate was, how – and Pearl couldn’t take it anymore. The rest had led to what it led to, even with Oscar’s bandaged friend jumping in to stop her, with Amethyst dragging Pearl to leave, with the patrons hollering and crying for the duel to happen now, right now, right then and there, with two mugs of beer as weapons.

Oscar glared at her. Pearl glared back. The leaves seemed to stop, a still frame, a watercolour painting of the two of them sizing each other up.

“P?”, Amethyst said. Pearl whirled around.

The Crystal Gems, sans Rose, all in one room. Amethyst sat down on the bed, Pearl kept standing by the window, careful to turn her back to the outside world, Garnet crossed her legs on her chair.

“So”, Amethyst began, “it’s going down.”

“I know”, Pearl said, “I want it to… _go down._ ”

“Well, she sure ain’t going anywhere. She’s ready as can be. I’m not sure this’ll have a good ending either way, you guys.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you win, she loses her honour around here, she made that clear”, Amethyst said, “whatever that means.”

“Hm.”

“And if she wins, you’ll sulk for a hundred years. Or demand a rematch.”

“That’s not how duels work”, Pearl said.

Amethyst shrugged.

Garnet stood up. “Company.”

A young man, dressed impeccably in the simple attire the servants wore, knocked on the open door, then stepped inside without a further word.

“Queen Marie Antoinette requests the presence of Pearl of the Crystal Gems.”

“For what?”, Pearl asked.

“To ‘make something very clear’”, he said, making sure to underline these words as the Queen’s, as if her birth right and marriage had made her somehow more impressive, better than anybody else. Pearl shuddered at the thought. How could rose want to spend all her time with her? Why? Wasn't that Antoinette woman everything they had fought against, only now in human form instead of the rigid eternity of Homeworld?

“I want to talk to Rose, can you tell her that?”, Pearl said.

Garnet put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it, the purple fingers folding the blue material beneath them in a way that made it almost look like Pearl's skin was moving underneath.

“Where do you think Rose is?”, she whispered. Pearl bit down on her lip. She turned around to look out the window – only to see that Oscar had also been approached by a servant and was now entering the castle, her step quick, her hand firmly on the hilt of her rapier.

Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder how obscure "Rose of Versailles" is nowadays. I remember reading the manga volumes in a library when I was too young to understand them, and just loved Oscar as a character so much, so unlike what was expected of women in her time, brave and sure of who she was and wanted to be. The regal atmosphere of Versailles was also something I found very interesting, and something I feel Pearl could disappear into if she wanted to, in addition to her style of fencing making for interesting fights in that time.
> 
> Look forward to more and, as always, any sort of criticism or any message are very much appreciated.


	3. Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some good ol' banter.

Oscar was already waiting in front of the door when Pearl arrived with the servant. She was leaning against a wall, her boots crossed, head turned downwards as if she were just about to nap if she weren’t always so serious. Her hair fell onto her shoulders like a blonde waterfall, small locks cascading when she moved to see Pearl.

“Ah”, she said.

“Ah to you too”, Pearl answered. She looked for a place to stand that wouldn’t immediately expose her to anyone who would open the door. The servant bowed and moved to leave.

“Thank you”, Oscar and Pearl said at the same time. They eyed each other while the servant shuffled away.

“So”, Oscar said, “there’s some decency in you.”

There was muffled noise coming from everywhere. One ornate door after the other lined the floor, and not a single room seemed to be empty. Chairs kept being moved around somewhere, and people shifted about, eternally scheming. For a long time, it had seemed as if it would always stay so. After her meeting with the Black Knight, Oscar wasn’t so sure. Dissent was rising among the people. And these aliens the Queen had invited to court didn’t help matters – they scared the people who in the many beating hearts of France.

“I never said there wasn’t”, Pearl answered. “In fact, I got most of you beat on that front.”

“Not for you to judge, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, so you will? Judge me?”

“No. I’m afraid we’re both in a worrisome position. Duels aren’t the most popular thing around, now that so many are deserting.”

“Leaving a sinking ship. This – human civilisation thing won’t last. I’ve been telling Rose for years.”

“So you’re don’t even call yourself human.”

“Do you know anything at all?”

“I know you hail from far away”, Oscar answered, trying not to show that the fact she would be fighting a non-human opponent fazed her to a degree she didn’t understand. “And that everyone wanted to get their hands on you.”

“I just don’t see what Rose found here. It’s…”

“Let’s not start again”, Oscar said, “we’ll settle this later.”

Some bustling behind the door, a couple of servants huddling idly past, lost in their everyday activities. Oscar looked at them and smelled the revolution coming. It couldn’t be much longer until the first _emeutes_ – the inquietudes, the small acts of protests growing into violence – boiled over into blood on the streets. She’d do her best to protect Marie, but – whose side was she on?

She was on the side of those who were still waiting to choose their side. Why had she let the Black Knight go? After he had robbed so many nobles? It kept her up at night sometimes. Rosalie would soon follow him into the city, even though her kiss still burned on Oscar’s lips. Life around her was crumbling. Only Antoinette and André remained of a busy, bright childhood.

A group of noblemen, holding glasses of wine in their hands and laughing, walked past in one of the many corridors around them. One of them trailed the group with some distance – he was dressed exquisitely, but his wig was considerably messed up, though he didn’t look like he cared all that much.

He walked by, not a care in the world, before he stopped and saw Pearl. She shifted on her feet as he approached her.

“Oh my!”

“Oh dear”, Pearl whispered just loud enough for Oscar to hear.

“It’s one of _those_ ”, the nobleman said. Was he speaking to Oscar? She turned to face him, but he was looking intently at Pearl’s gem.

“So exotic”, he said, “aren’t you the dancer?”

“Excuse me?”

“I heard one of you practices ballet.”

“Well, that’s me, but…”

The nobleman reeked of wine. During the middle of the day. Oscar knew the smell all too well from the barracks, just during the time she first claimed them as her own. Now, not so much – they were behaving better, she had to give them that. But the first few weeks had been enough to imprint the smell of someone drunk on expensive wine into her memory forever.

“Can you dance? Right now?”, the nobleman said, pointing at the floor ahead of him.

“I can”, Pearl said. “But I do not want to.”

Oscar smiled. Good.

“Quoi? Who do you think you are? You’re your Queen’s little chambermaid, and at this court – I’m someone really big. Really, really big.”

“Vicomte de Toulouse-Lautrec”, Oscar intervened. “We’re expecting the doors to open to be ushered into one of the Queen’s quarters. Surely you want to stay and meet with her? Maybe there’s business you’d like to discuss?”

“Ah!”, the vicomte exclaimed. “Oscar, it’s you – what a pleasure.”

“All mine.”

“Could you tell this…”

“I will do nothing of the sort, Sir. I’m afraid it’s beyond the jurisdiction of anyone at this court to tell them to do anything except for abiding by the most basic and agreed upon of our laws.”

The vicomte took a moment to process the wave of multi-syllable words that had just washed over him like a clean ocean’s movement over a mossy hill, promptly saw his crowd waiting for him in the hallway snickering and moved to meet them without another word.

After the echoes of their steps had stopped reaching them, Oscar and Pearl looked at each other, and Oscar noticed a more discerning, perhaps even interested glance hidden in the pale one’s large eyes.

“Quite impressive”, she said, “perhaps not everyone here is a lost cause after all.”

“I’m whatever cause King and Queen need me to be”, Oscar answered, but there was something hidden underneath the trained sincerity of the statement – a hint of irony, of humour, that made her heart jump with treason and Pearl’s lips twitch into the slightest of a smile.

“We’re about to be lectured, so – you just let me do the talking”, Pearl said.

“You sure do a lot of it.”

“I try to hone my talents.”

“Make sure you don’t cut your cheeks with a tongue that sharp”, Oscar said, shifting her weight to the foot closer to Pearl.

Her uniform fit her quite well, Pearl thought. The white lines of her pants, the red of her jacket, the blonde of her hair – humans were stylish beings sometimes, though a bit disgusting once you removed… anything, basically.

“That’ll only make more room in my mouth for words”, she said.

Oscar already had a brilliant answer, but realised that alien beings might not be as informed about other things that fit in mouths, and kept hers shut until she found something slightly tamer.

“Can’t I shut you up?”

“Many have tried. About as many have failed. You’ll get your chance, if you’re good with your blade.”

“Sure they didn’t just throw their hands up in exasperation? And I am, don’t worry.”

“Do you have a clever retort for anything? Because we can keep doing this forever. Or, wait, I can. You – have a short natural lifespan!”

The doors opened. Pearl and Oscar hadn’t even noticed the fact that the other seemed closer. They quickly looked away, towards the room, and entered. There’d be hell to pay, that’s for sure.


	4. Audience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any form of criticism is very welcome.

They looked even larger than before, the two of them together. Marie Antoinette was seated on a particularly comfortable lounge chair, the extreme puffiness of her dress barely masking the slight delighted, acted fury beneath it. Oscar could read her like a children’s novel she’d thumbed through one too many times. The eyes gave her away – while her body seemed tense, ready to pounce or at least make a run for it, her eyes were most bemused. Rose was a different matter entirely. She stood behind the Queen, regally but tastefully dressed and, as always, too tall for words. Her gaze fixed Pearl with the fury and disappointed of a thousand mothers, a hundred sisters and ten lovers scorned. Pearl would’ve done quite a few things to get the order to change, to reverse, starting with more lovers than the rest, but alas. She was on Rose’s bad side for the day, and that wasn’t a good place to be.

“Ladies”, Marie Antoinette said, “I have heard the most interesting of rumours.”

“It is not a rumour, Your Majesty”, Oscar said, bowing cordially, “the Baroness of Nancy has lost the weight from her Christmas dinner at last, but the next one is fast approaching, so it was for naught.”

Marie Antoinette giggled like a little girl. “Splendid! Humour on point, as always.”

Oscar’s cheeks flushes slightly. “I aim to please.”

Would the Queen look at her again the way she used to before? She had never considered her to be anything more than a childhood friend, but lately, even that seemed to be ever-so-slowly fading, disappearing behind a wall of whatever it was that kept the Queen up at night. Oscar had heard of the gambling among the guards. She could believe it. The sums – the sums were unbelievable.

“Eh-hm.” Rose made herself heard. “Marie, I believe there were a few things you wanted to say.”

Oscar hadn’t actually heard her speak before – so kind, so stern, so not-to-be-argued-with. She was their leader, definitely. And she had a regal aura about her, as if she herself was from an old family of nobles.

“Quite, Rose”, Marie said, “so, where was I.”

She stood up, her large eyes sparkling with a new kind of determination.

“Oscar, you have made an utter fool of yourself. Because…”

She turned to Rose. Rose nodded.

“Because if you believe me to be in need of a defense like that – you are sorely mistaken. I am the Queen of France, and my power reigns supreme. Or doesn’t it?”

“It does, madame.”

“As such, you are hereby stripped of your rank for the following week. If possible, you are to stay in your chambers.”

Oscar almost fell down. What? She had – she had basically put her life on the line for Marie, challenged an unknown fighter from a faraway land or planet or whatever it was, and this was her reward? “Marie, please”, she said.

“Oscar”, Marie responded. “Understand. I don’t want you to come to any more harm. There are a lot of people attacking the crown right now, and you aren’t making yourself any more popular by standing up for us.”

Oscar felt dumbfounded. No matter how much she liked Marie, reasons with this deep a root and core seemed to elude her most of the time. She was extremely personable, yes, innately likable, that too, but every time it came down to actual politics she hadn’t had her hand in them since, well, since she had the opportunity to. Where was this coming from?

Rose put a supportive hand on Marie’s shoulder. Pearl flinched. Oscar understood. A counsel. Well, perhaps it was for the better – an experienced leader actually taking the time to clean up the Queen’s messes. But why?

Marie squeezed the hand. “Now, as for you, Pearl”, she said.

Pearl huffed. “You don’t have any authority over me.”

“You do understand you are at court, right?”

The word awakened bad memories. Pearl’s face soured.

“There are rules at any court”, Marie continued, “and if you desire to live here, you are to live by them.”

“I have no desire to live at court, any court, for that matter.” Pearl glared daggers at Rose. “I believe it’s what we used to fight for, isn’t it?”

“Fight? A revolutionary?”

“I’ve toppled governments! I’ve – you don’t even – Rose!” Pearl looked past Marie, making a point of moving to the right, so the Queen wouldn’t stand between her and Rose. She approached her just a little, just to close some of the terrible space between them. “Rose, what are you doing here? We wanted to stay here for a month, we’ve been here a year! What do you… see…” _In her that you can’t find in me?_

Rose sighed. It was like a mother, exasperated with her child’s inability to understand the complex emotional workings of adult relationships. Because, fact was, it wasn’t that simple, with Rose it never was, and Pearl knew. But there were worlds and galaxies of differences between the knowing of the mind and that final, bitter realisation that hits once you hear the right words to trigger it. So Pearl waited.

“Marie”, Rose said, “I think I’ll have to talk to her myself.”

 _Have to._ Is that what it’s come to? Pearl clenches her fist. Oscar watches her from the side, not sure whether she should leave already or Marie would still have a few words for her. Just that moment, Marie stood up and waved for her to come closer.

“Oscar, come on, I’ve got a question for you too! Con-fi-den-tial!”

Oscar nodded, glad to leave a situation that seemed to be getting too personal, glad to be a bit closer to the Queen after that rebuke. Maybe the Crystal Gems had switched her with an impostor – it was her turn to find out, to take a closer look at just what was different. Marie motioned her over to a small side chamber, a richly decorated yellow room meant for tea and longing looks out from the balcony, and Oscar went. She almost didn’t realise her legs had started moving. It felt weird. Weirder than it had before.

Just before leaving the room, she looked back at Pearl. The Gem was still clenching her fist, still looking at Rose. Rose looked at Oscar. So did Pearl. Their eyes met. Sadness, anger – disappointment? Oscar felt herself reflected. She left the room as quickly as she could, and soon, only muffled voices remained of the castle’s strange new inhabitants.


End file.
